


Let Me Count The Ways

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Queerplatonic LAMP Verse [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Agender Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Aromantic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Aromantic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Aromantic Logic | Logan Sanders, Aromantic Morality | Patton Sanders, Black Logic | Logan Sanders, Chinese Morality | Patton Sanders, Other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Morality | Patton Sanders, everyones aro and nothing hurts, just know everyones aspec and its fantastic, more specific orientations in the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26301652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: What a lovely day for queerplatonic pining.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, Queerplatonic LAMP
Series: Queerplatonic LAMP Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029252
Comments: 32
Kudos: 274





	Let Me Count The Ways

**Author's Note:**

> this is maybe the most self indulgent thing i've ever written, featuring for aro GOOFBALLS, chinese trans man patton, black logan, more agender virgil because we love consistency and everyones aro and pining because i deserve it.
> 
> the title is from _How Do I Love Thee?_ by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
> 
> quick rundown of everyones orientations
> 
> Roman - oriented (gay) aroace  
> Virgil - quoiromantic asexual  
> Patton - bellusromantic gray-ace  
> Logan - Non-SAM aromantic,
> 
> thank you to [@airiervessel](airiervessel.tumblr.com) for beta-reading this SCHMOOPfest

“Never have I ever sung in a musical theater production,”

“Targeting!” whined Roman, putting down a finger even as Virgil started cackling at Logan’s words.

“That is, as I believe the vernacular goes, how it be sometimes,” said Logan, looking as comfy as possible with his head resting on Virgil’s shoulder.

Roman stuck out his tongue at both of them, and Virgil just laughed even harder, sleepiness making them carefree in a way they never were in the daytime – it made Patton want to hug them so bad he could barely _stand_ it.

“Patton!” said Roman plaintively, “Tell them not to pick on me!”

“Well, Roman, if you weren’t _so_ good at _so_ many things, maybe you’d be better at Never Have I Ever,” teased Patton, “Too bad, though! You _are_ good at everything. Nothing to be done,”

Roman tried to keep frowning, but _compliments_ were his weakness and they all knew it – and Patton was _very_ good at complimenting Roman; he only spent all the time thinking about doing it. As best friends do.

And, you know, as hopelessly pining squishes did – but Patton was gonna focus on the first part.

“ _Fine,_ ” said Roman with a put-upon sigh – he was smiling though, so Patton figured he wasn’t too upset.

“I will accept this _bullying,_ ” he continued, throwing a candy wrapper at Virgil and grinning even wider when they petulantly stuck their tongue out at him.

“It’s your turn, Pat,” said Logan, unconcerned.

“Hmmm, um- Never have I ever worn a dress to a school dance,”

“Rude,” said Virgil as everyone but Patton put down a finger.

“Pat!” said Roman, betrayed.

“That’s like, the exact opposite of targeting, Princey,” laughed Virgil.

“A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do,” said Patton solemnly, “It’s _sleepover games,_ Roman, it’s life or death-”

“You can’t be a drama queen, that’s _my_ thing,”

“Bold of you to assume Logan isn’t a drama queen,” said Virgil.

“ _I_ have done nothing in this conversation to warrant a personal attack,” said Logan dryly.

Roman looked like he was gearing up for a response, and Logan vs Roman debates were always fun to watch but they did have a tendency to take over the whole room – Virgil cut in before Roman could get the words out.

“Never have I ever been cis,” they said smugly.

Roman groaned, putting a third finger down, and so did Logan. Virgil offered Patton a fist bump which he gleefully accepted with a little giggle.

“ _Bullied_ in my _own home-_ ”

“Our home,” said Logan smiling over at him, “We share this house, Roman,”

“Yes, yes, our home,” said Roman, kicking Logan’s foot gently with his, “It’s the _principle_ of it, L,”

“It’s your turn,” said Patton, “If you wanna get vengeance,”

“Pat!” said Virgil.

“What?” said Patton innocently, “It’s everyone for themselves,”

“One of these days I’m gonna get someone to believe me when I say you’re merciless at party games,” said Virgil, grinning, “Everyone thinks you’re _so_ innocent-”

“No idea what you mean, Virge!”

“I have my vengeance!” said Roman, “Never have I ever had black hair,”

Virgil flipped him off with their free hand and put down a finger, and Patton did the same with his best kicked puppy expression, trying not to giggle when Roman winced.

The game continued, and Patton moved from between Roman and Virgil to snuggle up to Roman’s side and tangle his legs with Virgil and Logan’s. Roman switched hands for the game so he could wrap an arm around Patton and drop a kiss to his hair, and Patton sighed happily.

Slumber parties were just about the biggest constant in Patton’s life. From the very first one, when Patton had just freshly come out as a preteen and his mom had helped him throw it in celebration, every second Saturday was Their Day, the four of them, and Patton wouldn’t change that for anything.

Coincidentally, that was also the first time Virgil had black hair – they’d snuck the box of hair dye from their mom, and the four of them had locked themselves in the downstairs bathroom and done the patchiest, most ridiculous dye job on Virgil’s auburn hair imaginable – they’d looked like a tortoiseshell cat.

Mom had thought it was funny, even though they’d stained the sink. She’d called Virgil “striking,” and Patton wouldn’t realize for years and years that she had been teasing them, because to Patton, Virgil always looked striking. All three of them did, his lovely, wonderful best friends.

It might have been the first slumber party, but it wasn’t the first time Patton knew he wanted life to be the four of them against the world, forever – he didn’t actually _remember_ that first time. He’d felt this way for as long as he could remember, before he’d ever even heard the term “squish,” let alone “queerplatonic.”

Because Patton would _love_ to kiss them, _did_ love to kiss them, on the cheek and the arm when they were cuddling and the forehead when one of them did something cute. Would love to cuddle and have it mean something _big_ and _extra -_ and he’d also always known it had never been a romantic feeling. Maybe that would have been easier, but Patton _liked_ this feeling, would never give it up for something simpler. He loved them, and he loved them his way, and he didn’t want anything different.

(Well, except maybe _actually_ being their partner – that would be absolutely above and beyond _wonderful_ , even if Patton was pretty sure he’d never actually manage to work up the nerve to ask, or say anything, _ever._ )

So Patton was content, for now, to leave all his mushy feelings on the inside, at least mostly. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of snuggles in his life, and while he did daydream a lot about this being really, truly, _definitely_ theirs, forever and ever, he already had so much now! How could he not be happy?

“Never have I ever,” said Virgil loudly, “Had a swish on Michael B Jordan,”

“I’m going to _kill_ you, Emo Knightmare!”

Roman launched himself across the blanket nest, dislodging Patton and grabbing Virgil around the middle, ignoring their squirming and peals of laughter as he wrestled them into prime rib-tickling position.

Logan and Patton exchanged fond eye rolls over their flailing limbs, and Patton’s heart felt full, and soft, and very mushy.

 _Definitely_ happy, he thought, and for now, that was plenty.

—

“You are so much _better_ at eyeliner than me,” grouched Virgil.

“Practice makes perfect!” said Roman cheerfully, “Stop _blinking,_ ”

“ _You’re_ blinking,” they muttered, but they leaned in and lowered their lids so Roman could cradle their jaw and swipe a wing of eyeliner just above their lashes.

And he did not internally scream the entire time about how unbelievably gay he was, no sir.

“Everyone who sees you is going to _instantly_ swish on you when I’m done,” he said instead, “No contest. Prettiest emo on the whole campus,”

“Oh, shut up, they will not,” said Virgil, their cheek heating up slightly under Roman’s palm.

“They will!” insisted Roman, “And you haven’t even seen what Patton’s done to Logan yet, we’re going to be the plastics of SU before the night’s out,”

“That is hardly the compliment you seem to be presenting it as,” said Logan, eyes closed serenely as Patton brushed powder onto his face, “The plastics are the antagonists,”

“What _is_ Pat doing-?” said Virgil, squirming to look.

“Hey!” said Roman, cupping their face in both hands, “Hold still, Emo-scer the Grouch,”

And that! Was an atrocious plan!

Because Virgil rolled their eyes, letting out a puff of breath to blow their bangs out of their face and grinning up at him, teasing and fond, and Roman was utterly struck dumb.

Roman had some nerve joking about swishes as if he didn’t have three the size of _the sun_ on everyone in the damn room.

But what was he supposed to do! Presented with the three loveliest beings on earth, how was he supposed to do anything _but_ stare?

“Princey?” said Virgil nervously.

“Lipstick!” blurted Roman, “No, you can’t have black,”

“Oh, come on!” said Virgil, immediately distracted from the staring, “It goes with everything,”

“You like the purple just as much, you just won’t admit it,”

Pouting, Virgil feinted for a few moments like they might refuse, but then they huffed, leaning back to let Roman apply it with slightly parted lips.

They were so _pretty_ – it simply wasn’t fair in the slightest.

Finally, Roman finished, letting Virgil turn and following them until they were both facing Logan and Patton. Patton, for his part, had lined Logan’s eyes in blue and gold, stark against his dark skin, and nothing else – the effect was something like a masquerade mask, and Roman resisted the urge to clutch his chest and collapse, waxing poetic.

They’d all certainly improved at make-up over the years – Roman could still remember raiding his mother’s make up bag for freshman homecoming all those years ago. Patton hadn’t partaken, wrinkling his nose adorably at the idea of wearing make up himself - he’d since changed his mind – but he’d been enthusiastic in helping the rest of them apply it, if not exactly skilled.

Roman still had that photograph, the four of them arm in arm, Patton and Logan in tiny button-ups and slacks with bow ties, Roman and Virgil in matching dresses, and he looked at it so often he could probably close his eyes and sketch it from memory.

But even that was not the _true_ most memorable part of that evening.

No – _that_ honor was reserved for when he’d answered the door, Logan the last to arrive. Logan had been wearing a look of stalwart determination when Roman let him in, solemnly standing before all of them with a box in hand before firmly announcing he’d brought them gifts.

And out of the box he had pulled four tiny bundles of flowers, three boutonnieres and one corsage, in a rainbow of colors – literally. Roman’s, the largest boutonniere, was two flowers, one rainbow and the other purple and green. Virgil’s corsage had been in the quoiromantic flag colors, Patton’s in the soft pinks and violets of bellusromantic, and Logan’s own the gray-green-black aro flag.

Roman hadn’t cried, despite the cloying lump in his throat. He’d only stared, for a long moment, thought to himself, _well, now I’m screwed,_ and thanked Logan like he hadn’t just had an epiphany that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his three best friends in queerplatonic bliss at the ripe old age of fourteen and three quarters.

Of course, instead of saying that, Roman had promptly buried the feelings like he was hiding a treasure chest from a vicious dragon, because that was what well-adjusted aros did with their all-encompassing queerplatonic love, right? Right.

Remus seemed to think this was the funniest thing that had ever happened when Roman had told him, laughing his ass off for a solid five minutes at Roman’s expense, called him “too gay to function” like he wasn’t equally gay, and then proceeded to spend the rest of high school making poorly concealed suggestive comments about their relationship. Which, considering it was Remus, who was possibly the most allo person Roman knew, and didn’t understand aspec feelings in the slightest, usually just meant he encouraged them to do genuinely innocuous things while making obnoxious eyebrow wiggles.

“You both look amazing!” squealed Patton, startling Roman from his thoughts.

“Truly,” agreed Roman, “I love the way you blended that, Patton, it really brings out his eyes,”

“Patton is very skilled,” said Logan, “You have done an excellent job accentuating Virgil’s naturally striking features,”

Virgil made a strangled noise of complaint, blushing under the foundation and kicking Logan gently in the knee. Logan simply caught it, resting Virgil’s leg in his lap and kneading their ankle soothingly.

“I am only expressing a fact,” said Logan, smiling softly, “There is no need for violence,”

“Your mom has no- need for- that doesn’t make sense,”

“Oof, three out of ten for effort,” said Roman, patting them on the head, and Virgil bared their teeth for a moment in playful anger before scrunching their nose adorably and getting a sly expression.

“I’ll show _you_ effort,” they said daringly, and Roman had just a bare moment to brace himself before Virgil grabbed the nearest pillow and _thwapped_ him firmly in the face.

There was a long moment of quiet, Virgil smirking, Patton and Logan bracing for the chaos, and Roman sitting perfectly still.

“… You do know this means war?” he said solemnly.

“A war you’re gonna lose!” said Virgil, whacking him again and shrieking in alarm when Roman grabbed the pillow from their grip. Scrambling, they dove behind Logan and Patton, the latter having already grabbed his own pillow weapon while Logan sighed, exasperated.

“Children,” he said, “I share my life with children,”

A soft _thump_ , and the throw pillow that had made contact with Logan’s face fell into his lap, a smear of foundation left on the surface.

“Brave words from a man with no pillow to defend himself,” said Patton gravely.

“And yet-” said Logan, “You have just given me one,”

Logan lunged, swinging the throw pillow, and the room dissolved into absolute chaos. Roman pinned a squirming Patton and went about pretending to smother him, while Virgil giggled and shrieked as they and Logan rolled around in circles at the edge of the blanket nest.

“Wait, alliance!” giggled Patton, pushing the pillow away from his face.

“Fantastic plan!” said Roman, launching so he sprawled across both Logan and Virgil, knocking them both flat.

“What happened to everyone for themself!” protested Virgil.

“The enemy of my enemy-”

Roman’s very pithy quote cut off with an _oof_ as Virgil tackled him around the middle, and the chaos returned – at some point blankets got involved in addition to pillows and they managed to burrito-fy a protesting, fondly exasperated Logan, and for a while, Roman forgot entirely that he was missing anything at all.

—

Some days, Virgil wondered if the universe was actively conspiring against them.

Most of the time, that was when they would go to Logan, and listen to him calmly soothe away so many of their ‘cognitive distortions’ in his smooth, level voice. Or to Patton, so he could squeeze the life and the anxiety right out of them. Or Roman, who would sometimes not even notice Virgil was upset but always held up an arm when they entered the room in offering to snuggle anyway, because he was just that sweet.

Of course, in _this_ case, Logan, Patton, and Roman were the _problem._

Or- not the problem. The source of the problem. Well, no, because the _problem_ was just that Virgil became a tongue-tied incoherent _mess_ every time one of them smiled at them, which was Virgil’s deal, not theirs.

But like – come on. There _had_ to be some kind of- universe shenanigan going on here. There was _no_ way the world just _happened_ to _coincidentally_ drop the three greatest people in the world directly in Virgil’s line of sight. It had to have been on purpose, a cosmic prank designed specifically to make Virgil fall hopelessly in who-really-knew-what-they-felt-but-it-was- _wonderful_ and then proceed to pine so obviously they could probably see Virgil blushing from the international space station.

They were going on three years, at this point, and Virgil was pretty sure they deserved a _medal_ for their ability to keep a lid on this when all they wanted to do was just blurt it out in a rush of fizzy delight, like a bottle of pop shaken till it burst.

It had taken every ounce of willpower for it _not_ to overflow, the first time – when they’d all been sitting in Logan’s room, looking at the pamphlets and brochures for various schools, and Logan had casually commented that they would have to go through and eliminate any options that didn’t have quad dorms.

Virgil had thought _oh, yeah,_ and then just _oh,_ and then _oh no_ because _that-_ they wanted that. More than they’d ever wanted any singular thing in their life, maybe. To go to college _together_ and graduate _together_ and a house, maybe, and maybe-

Maybe they wanted everything. Maybe they wanted _forever,_ which was a slightly terror-inducing thought but mostly just made Virgil feel like they wanted to burrow into the middle of a four-way cuddle pile and never, _ever_ leave.

The pillow fight eventually collapsed into just that, Roman laying on his back with Logan and Patton tucked up against his sides, Virgil draped across his chest, all of them breathing heavily and occasionally giggling, even Logan. Eventually, Patton groaned, rolling away – Virgil did _not_ make a forlorn noise at his absence, but it was a close thing – and bracing his hands on his spine to stretch.

“Sheesh,” he said cheerfully, “Are we getting better or worse at pillow fights if I feel all sore afterwards?”

“I think it means you’re getting old,” teased Roman.

“One month!” giggled Patton, “ _One_ month I’m older than you, and you never let me forget it, you goof,”

“It’s all this incorrigible youthful charm,”

“Incorrigible I can _emphatically_ agree with,” said Logan, sitting up. Virgil didn’t _want_ to get up, but it would be weird, probably, if they stayed cuddling Roman when everyone else had left, so they rolled off of him too, sitting cross-legged beside him and scooting so their thighs were pressed together.

“I’m not old!” laughed Patton.

“Ancient,” said Roman, nodding sagely, “Practically already gone white-haired. A grandpa,”

“If you keep picking on Patton we will have to retaliate,” said Logan, reaching out to tweak Roman’s ear.

“How so, do tell?” said Roman, propping his head on his fist and looking up at Logan attentively.

“Well,” said Logan, “I believe the next item on the agenda-”

“Right,” said Roman, smiling, “Because ten years on and you still make _agendas_ for slumber parties, you absolute nerd,”

“On the _agenda_ is Truth or Dare, and we already summarily defeated you in Never Have I Ever. It would be quite embarrassing for you to walk away from this evening with two sound losses,”

Roman made an indignant noise, and Logan just gave him a smug smile and threw a slightly softer one at Virgil and Patton when they started giggling at Roman’s protests.

“Proof!” he exclaimed, “Proof you are deliberately picking on me, the _betrayal-”_

“Noooo, we love you!” said Patton, sending a flare of heat to Virgil’s cheeks, calm _down,_ “We would never betray you,”

“Weeeeeell-” said Virgil, misdirecting from the blush with a joke.

“You’re both terrible and I’m taking away Patton privileges,” said Roman primly, sitting up and pulling Patton into his lap and scooting away.

Truth or Dare was, honestly, pretty uneventful – mostly because it was late, and very obvious that none of them wanted to move. After a handful of each – Virgil was particularly proud of their air guitar solo – they’d made their way around the square a few times, and it was Virgil’s turn once again.

“Uhhh, Logan,” they said.

And Logan turned, smiling fondly at them, bumped their knee with his own and said “Truth,”

Maybe it was that – the smile. Maybe it was the nudge, or maybe it was because Virgil was tired and soft and feeling so much all the time that it was just one thing too many, the straw that broke the camel’s back, and they’d asked the question before their brain could catch up to their mouth and stop it.

“Do you have a squish on anyone?”

Virgil was, honestly, lowkey expecting the world to just instantly implode from the sheer force of their embarrassment at having asked _that_ , of _all_ the questions they possibly could have asked, why _that-_

What they were not expecting was for Logan to _laugh_.

“Really?” he said, snickering, “That is the question you are putting forth?”

Part of Virgil wanted to latch onto that and take it back, but… mostly, they were just really, really confused. They had no idea why Logan seemed to find the question so funny, and a glance at Patton and Roman told them that they weren’t the only one lost.

“Um… yeah,” croaked Virgil.

Logan rolled his eyes, sighing, but he was still smiling, and Virgil would really be very keen on someone letting them in on the joke right about now.

“Fine,” said Logan, “If you _must_ waste your question in pursuit of sentimentality, I will not hold it against you,”

“In- waste- _what?”_ said Virgil incredulously.

But Logan either didn’t hear them or didn’t seem to think it was important, because he reached over and laced their fingers, palm to palm, and squeezed.

“Seeing as squishes are rather prerequisite for queerplatonic partners, I clearly have them on all three of you,”

And really, Virgil didn’t know what Logan was expecting _except_ for everyone to start screaming.

—

It took at least sixty seconds for the other three to calm down enough that Logan could understand what they were shouting about at all, let alone actually respond.

Virgil had rather abruptly dropped his hand like it had scalded them, which he certainly hadn’t been expecting, nor for Patton to let out a stream of garbled nonsense syllables or for Roman to turn so pale Logan was rather worried he might faint.

When they finally did calm down enough to speak one at a time, it was Roman who spoke, pointing a shaking finger in Logan’s direction and choking, “Queerplatonic?” as if Logan was supposed to be able to intuit the question from one word alone.

“… Yes,” he said anyway, “That is the nature of our relationship. I do not understand what you are asking me,”

“ _Relationship?”_ screeched Patton.

“… _Yes,_ ” said Logan, frowning, “What-? You are all behaving very strangely,”

“ _We_ ’ _re_ behaving strangely?” said Virgil, strangled, “You just said we’re in a relationship!”

“How on Earth is that strange?” said Logan incredulously.

“Uh, because we _aren’t?_ ”

Logan reared back.

“… Virgil,” he said, “I- I don’t find that joke particularly funny,”

“I’m not _joking!_ ” said Virgil, a little hysterically.

Logan looked at them critically, and then Patton and Roman, all of whom were staring at him in various stages of alarm and absolute bafflement.

“… We _are_ in a queerplatonic relationship,” said Logan, pressing. None of them wavered in their confusion.

“I- we _live_ together,” said Logan, worrying the edge of his sleep shirt in his fingers, increasingly irritated, “I- kiss you on the cheek every morning?”

“Well- yeah,” said Patton, watching Logan with an expression that was edging from confusion to something else Logan couldn’t pinpoint, “But- that’s not-”

“I know all your take-out orders!” continued Logan, “We have- this is a _biweekly date night,_ we have anniversary dinners - I took you to my cousin’s _wedding,”_

“I need to lay down,” said Roman suddenly.

“Wait, you- you’re _really_ serious?” croaked Virgil.

“Of course I’m _serious_ we have been together for-”

Logan cut off abruptly because- well, this was either a very cruel joke, which Logan didn’t think his partners capable of or-

Or they were not actually his partners at all, and Logan was making quite the spectacular fool of himself.

“… For-?” prompted Roman, voice shaking.

“… I suppose it doesn’t matter,” said Logan, ignoring the sting in his eyes.

“How long?” pressed Roman.

“I said-”

“Specs, I _mean it_ , how long do you think we’ve been together?”

Logan gave him a flimsy glare, but Roman was staring, earnest and genuine, and Logan slumped.

“I was under the impression our sixth anniversary was one month ago,”

Roman took a sharp intake of breath, and Patton made a noise that resembled someone letting the air out of a balloon. Virgil just gaped.

“Six _years?_ ” exclaimed Patton.

“ _Yes,”_ Logan snapped.

“Are you talking about freshman homecoming?” said Roman thickly.

“Six _years,_ ” said Patton, more vehemently, “You’re telling me we could have been- I could have- six _years_ and I didn’t even _know-”_

“Could have-” said Virgil, watching the dawning determination in Patton’s expression warily.

Patton threw himself across the circle, looped his arms around Logan’s neck, and started pressing dozens of repeated, enthusiastic pecks to Logan’s cheek.

“-What?” finished Virgil, squeaking.

“You- are- so- sweet-!” said Patton, punctuating each word with a kiss that made Logan’s face burn with embarrassment.

“Oh my _goodness,_ I just- I thought the cheeks kisses were regular platonic!” said Patton wetly, cradling Logan’s face in his soft hands, “And this was a friend sleepover but you thought it was _dates,_ and you were so sweet and respectful that no one even noticed, you’re just so _sweet,_ I _love you!”_

“ _Patton,”_ said Logan, strangled.

“I’m so _sorry_ we hurt your feelings, sweetheart but- but if you really _did_ think that and you- still-”

Patton pulled Logan forward into his chest, squeezing him. Logan tucked his face into Patton’s neck and- and it didn’t feel any different than how it always did, even with this new, painful knowledge.

“I would absolutely totally _love_ to be your partner, honey,” said Patton wetly.

The knot in Logan’s chest unfurled slightly, and his arms came up to settle around Patton’s waist.

“I would-”

Roman cut off, clearing his throat, and then plucked up Logan’s hand, squeezing.

“I would also be- impossibly happy, if that were the case,” he said, voice cracking.

Patton reached backward, flailing his hand, and Roman grabbed it briefly before just moving in and wrapping his arms around both of them.

Logan looked up from Patton’s shoulder to Virgil, who was still on the other side of the nest, watching the three of them with wide, vulnerable eyes.

“You too, Peter Panic,” said Roman, grinning through shiny eyes, “Come on, this will never work without our favorite emo,”

Virgil’s eyes darted between the three of them, and then to Patton’s hand, which he stretched out between them.

“… Yeah?” they croaked.

“ _Yes,”_ said Patton, “Yes, please, honey, c’mere!”

Virgil practically launched themself across the nest, burrowing into the space between Patton and Logan and squirming until they could press their face into Patton’s neck. They pressed their own tender kiss to Logan’s cheek and sighed, relaxing, like they’d sunk into a warm bath.

“I love you, too,” they said in a small voice.

Logan shuddered a little, in relief, maybe, or possibly a little more embarrassment, because what, exactly, must he have been doing for the past six years, that this had only just now come up?

Roman scratched softly at the back of Logan’s head, and he couldn’t help but relax along with Virgil.

Really- it was embarrassing, yes, but- the worst-case scenario, that this might have happened _without_ his feelings being reciprocated, had clearly been avoided. This?

This was hardly a nightmare.

“I guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh L?” said Virgil, giving him a shaky smile.

“No,” said Logan softly, kissing the tip of their nose, “This is where we have always wound up before, and I hardly see a reason to alter the itinerary when it has served us so well,”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Specs?” said Roman, “I can think of all _sorts_ of things we ought to be doing now that we’re all on the same page-”

“Can you now?” said Logan dryly.

“Of course,” said Roman, tucking some hair behind Logan’s ear, “Like telling you to your face that I think you are the three most stunning creatures on the face of the entire earth,”

Logan could only sputter in response to the words, and Roman’s smug grin, while Virgil made a noise rather reminiscent of a tea kettle and hid their face in Logan’s chest like they could hide from the flattery. Patton pressed one hand to his own chest, beaming.

“Oh, sweetheart, really? Thank you!”

“Without contest,” said Roman, “I can’t believe how I managed to keep it a secret this long,”

He grinned over at Logan.

“Since, uh- the day we got together, _apparently,_ ”

“You’re _kidding,_ ” protested Virgil, “That _long?”_

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Patton, amused, “I’ve got him beat on pining,”

“Really?” said Roman dubiously.

“Forever,” said Patton firmly, “As long as I can remember, it’s been you three, it’s- it’s _always_ been you,”

He leaned down to give Virgil a bunny kiss, his soft hair brushing Logan’s chin in the process, before pulling back and giving them all the softest smile.

“One, um- other thing, could be different. Only if you wanted, though,”

“What’s that?” said Roman.

Patton bit the corner of his mouth.

“… Well,” he said, “It won’t hurt my feelings, so you really don’t have to but- I would- like? A um- lip kiss. If someone else also wanted one,”

Roman squeaked.

“ _Oh,_ ” he said, “I- um- I will- get back to you, on that, I’m not- entirely sure,”

“No, thank you,” said Logan gently, “But I am happy to kiss your cheek,”

“I would,” blurted Virgil, before immediately turning bright red and yanking the strings of their hoodie to hide their face.

“Well, I can’t kiss you if you’re in hoodie town!” said Patton brightly, tilting their chin up. Virgil laughed, sheepish, and leaned in a little. Patton closed the distance, kissing them softly, and Logan felt a wave of such overwhelming happiness on their behalf that he felt abruptly dizzy.

“So beautiful,” said Roman, swooping in to kiss Patton and then Virgil on the cheek when they parted.

“Charmer,” said Patton, bopping his nose.

“What are we even doing?” said Roman, “This is _prime_ cuddling excuse, we absolutely must partake in an abundance of snuggling-”

Logan didn’t even consider protesting as Roman pulled them all into the comfiest part of the nest, arranging himself along Virgil’s back and nosing at the back of their neck. They giggled, taking Logan’s hand and pulling it around their waist, and Logan settled in to listen to the lull of their voices.

He glanced over at the calendar.

November third. Logan supposed he really didn’t mind having two anniversaries.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me over on [tumblr!](tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com)


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